Uncontrollable Desire
by TutusAndSonnets
Summary: Ever wonder, when you watch the Behind the Mask feature on the 2nd disc in the Phantom DVD, why there is an image of Christine sitting in front of the mirror with only a sheet wrapped around her? This is my take on it.


Christine lay awake in her bed, staring into the dark and recalling her dream. This was not an unusual occurrence – for the past few months a full night of sleep was rare because of the reoccurring dream that made its way into her mind every time she lay down and close her eyes, weary from a day's practice or performance. She wondered who it was, this strange man who invaded her thoughts each night. He was always beautifully dressed, impeccably groomed. He sang sweetly and watched over her. And then there was that mask…

She felt consumed by these dreams, by the voice that sang to her and controlled her thoughts. Recently, it was as if her every thought that crossed her mind was foreign. As strange as this reoccurrence was, they became habitual and comforting, these dreams. Christine enjoyed the assurance that when she closed her eyes, he was there, waiting for her. She had yet to figure out what his presence meant, but the simplicity of knowing someone was there for her was calming.

Tonight's dream was different though. He had touched her. It was by no means an innocent act nor was it an accidental contact. This touch made her skin burn – made her very soul burn. She shifted in her bed as she tried to remember the details. He had come up behind her, wrapped what she learned were strong and agile hands around her petite waist, and brushed his thumbs against the soft curves of her breasts. She struggled with the details now. A heat rose from deep within her and her mind clouded as she registered the erotic nature of the act. She shuddered and then the familiar feeling came over her, like she couldn't control her thoughts. Christine struggled to regain power over her own mind but it was to no avail. He entered her thoughts once again leaving her powerless over her own actions.

Her senses abandoned her as she rose from the bed and stood up, swaying slightly. She could hear herself breathing; she could feel her heart beating and the brush of her hair against her shoulders. Then, she felt her legs move as she began a descent across the room, dragging the white cotton sheet that was wrapped around her fragile frame. Her feet barely made a noise as they stepped delicately across the cold stone floor.

He was there, she could feel it. She was not doing this on her own accord, but because he told her to. Resistance was worthless.

A small stool stood in from of the ornate, full length mirror that occupied the one wall of her room opposite her bed. Was he behind the mirror? Christine took her spot on the seat and stared into her reflection. Her mind was still clouded with the image of the mysterious masked man who ignited a fire inside of her.

Now Christine felt something she never had before. It was a desperate need for him – a thirst that needed to be quenched. Oh, it was no use thinking; any thought she had was immediately suppressed and replaced by his image. It consumed her. Slowly, she began to lose the strength in her hands and her grip on the sheet that was wrapped around her loosened and dropped to her waist. He told her to do it: her hand went to her shoulder and she slipped the strap of her thin cream-colored chemise off. The voice in her head urged her to continue, and she did the same with the other strap. She burned inside. Her eyelids fluttered as her undergarment fell down her body and gathering at her waist, leaving her frame bare.

A thought escaped the cloudiness as she registered what she was doing. He had taken over her mind before but tonight was the first time she felt herself completely succumb to his wishes. She had no control over the heat pooling low in her body or her racing heartbeat. Looking deep into the mirror, it was as if her thoughts were taking shape. The man was _in _the mirror, watching her, staring intently at her bare shape. His form became clearer with every passing breath until a flesh-and-blood man was standing before her with his arm outstretched. At the end of this arm was a welcoming and open hand.

"Christine…" he whispered.

The voice was rough and smooth all at once. With this, she looked up and saw his face. He had such an air of mystery…

The heat grew and spread with such intensity she felt she might faint. She would have been uncomfortable in her exposure had the stranger been anyone else. But with him, she felt safe. She felt desire.

Her fingers trembled as she reached out to take the hand of the man in front of her. Lifting her off the stool, the stranger used his free hand to replace the straps of her chemise on her shoulders.

"My Christine…"

With Christine still mesmerized, the stranger wasted no time in pulling her through the mirror with him.

"My Angel" he thought.


End file.
